Steam Dogs (22 page)
Authors: Sharon Joss
The sound of Henry’s warning growl snapped Roman out of his trance.
He whirled away from Sir Magnus and the men, and ran into the
darkness, toward Stebondale Street, where respectable men would not dare to
follow. Henry ran right beside him, his tail tucked between his legs, as if he
too, had been terrified by the revelation that Magnus Vetch was responsible for
what had happened this night. The mere presence of Sir Magnus Vetch at Wickes
home at this hour was too much of a coincidence to be believed. The former
royal wizard most had most certainly mesmerized Wickes—and probably
Fitzhugh, and Commander Lloyd as well.
Roman kept to the alleys, avoiding the street lights, his ears
straining for sounds of pursuit. In this part of town, the streets were
narrower, seedier, and far less well-lit, where even uniformed policemen patrolled
unwillingly at night. He needed time to think.
He slowed his pace and allowed himself to move along the edge of
the crowds loitering outside the taverns and halls. There was a loud brawl
going on just outside Billsons Pub, and as he eased away from the scene, the
mood of the crowd changed from wariness to excitement as bets were taken on who
would be the victor.
He found a relatively
quiet spot to settle himself up against the side of the boarded up button
factory. The dog curled up beside him, his nose on his paws. Still shaking, Roman
crossed his arms over his knees and kept his head down while he tried to sort
out his thoughts.
Good Lord,
Sir Magnus tried
to mesmerize me!
If not for Henry—well, he would have walked right up
onto that porch, and who knows what would have happened. He ran his hand along
the little terrier’s warm flank and the pup snuggled closer.
Hamm’s dreadful visage had rekindled part of a long-buried memory
of Balaclava. But seeing Sir Magnus tonight had fully restored the nightmare of
what had happened that night on the Causeway Heights. Sir Magnus had been
there. And what he’d done…
Sir Magnus raised the dead
in Balaclava. And someone had raised Hamm Foine from the dead on the Isle of
Dogs.
And the more Roman thought about it, the more he realized this couldn’t have
been the first time. The blood spatter at the airfield. And the dock. Good Lord,
how long had this been going on? He frowned. If there was a game afoot, what
was it? And when Hamm failed in his mission to kidnap Welsie or do whatever
he’d planned with her—Roman froze, unable to finish the thought.
Why hadn’t he remembered it? Hard to believe the wizard had been
living right here on the island all this time, and it never dawned on him. In
Crimea, he recalled that Sir Magnus looked very different than he did tonight.
Black hair worn back in a long tail and dark bushy eyebrows. He was
clean-shaven, now; his silver-white hair and deeply-lined features made him
appear far older than one would expect.
Sir Magnus Vetch,
Alderman Fitzhugh, Superintendent Wickes, and Commander Lloyd. Clearly, Sir Magnus
had them all in his pocket. But for what purpose? What sort of conspiracy…?
Roman shook his head, disgusted by his own mad ramblings. Of
course there was no conspiracy. Great Scott, he must’ve sounded every bit as
daft as his own father, coming around and making accusations about Sir Magnus. It
was no secret to anyone that Padraig drank far too much, far too often, and was
known for his besotted rants against the London Municipal police and Island
politics in general. Padraig’s drunken tirades against political corruption had
gotten him thrown into a jail cell on more than one occasion, to Roman’s great
personal embarrassment. Wickes probably thought the apple didn’t fall far from
the tree, showing up as he had, looking as if he had, indeed been on a binge.
Perhaps he could beg forgiveness in the morning.
Perhaps he’d let Stackpoole’s superstitions get to him.
And yet…
It was Stackpoole’s wraith that led him to the conspiracy.
The dead don’t lie. I know I’m right about
this.
Gradually, Roman’s breathing settled and gave way to night chills.
He needed to get out of these wet clothes. He sighed and rose to his feet. He
needed sleep.
Roman made his way down the length of Stebondale and made a left
on Ship Street, with Henry trotting beside him. A half-block from the station
house, he stopped in his tracks. Close to midnight, and the place was lit up
like a dance hall. Everyone should be abed by now. Cautiously, he crossed to
the opposite side of the street for a better look.
He eased himself into the deep shadows of the entrance to an
alley. From this vantage point he could see Sergeant Loman and Sergeant Roper
chatting casually in the reception area, as if it were closer to high noon than
midnight. What on earth were they doing? Loman was the day sergeant. What was
he doing up?
Waiting for someone.
At that moment, Roper turned to look out the window, and Roman saw
his hand perched on the holster of a pistol at his belt. Great Scott, it must
be me they’re waiting for. If I go in there, they’ll arrest me.
Or shoot me.
The thought seemed incredible. Impossible.
I haven’t done anything!
His teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.
More than anything, he wanted to go into the station house, march upstairs, and
crawl into his warm bed and pretend this whole night had never happened.
But he couldn’t bring himself to go inside.
“That should do it, Captain.” Gregorio wiped his hands on a
flannel rag.
“It doesn’t look right,” Arvel answered. They’d just finished
re-attaching the gondola docking mechanism using the newly–machined
parts. “The alignment is off. It looks amateurish.”
Arvel and Nuncio released their grip on the housing and Arvel
whistled the all clear. From the main cabin above them, Rudy switched on the
motor, and with a near-silent hum, gondola was raised into place. They checked
the seating. It wasn’t perfect, but Gregorio seemed satisfied.
He clapped Arvel on the shoulder. “Trust me, it’s close enough. It
will work. Now we need to test it.”
“Alright.” Arvel held out his cup to Louie for more coffee. They’d
worked all night. “Where’s Simon?”
The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air as Louie filled his cup
from the steaming pot. Thank god they’d brought their own. All these Englishmen
ever seemed to drink was tea.
“I didn’t see him come
in last night. His bunk was empty when I got up.” Always an early riser, Louie
rose before the sun every morning to do his meditation and
Qi-Gong
exercises. “Maybe he’s with his green lady.” The squat
little pyrotech was not much given to casual gossip, but he never missed a
thing.
“He better not be. Her husband didn’t seem like the friendly
sort.” When she’d introduced Hamm, Arvel was of the opinion that the ferryman
was a dull, plodding sort of brute, not at all the sort to catch the eye of a
woman like Welsie. He’d barely grunted a hello as he went out to the ferry.
He goes to bed early
, she explained;
the pub is too noisy at night for him, so
he sleeps out on the ferry
.
No surprise, based on the man’s rumpled appearance.
“Come on, let’s go check the weather. The barometer looks good. I
think today is the day.” Sure enough, when they strolled outside, the clouds
had cleared and the air was still. “Perfect day for flying, don’t you think?”
“And fireworks,” agreed Louie.
#
The air was dead calm as Arvel held the
Il Colibri
in position, hovering just above the ground in front of
the hangar doors, waiting for Simon, who jogged the last few meters up the hill
toward the ship.
Arvel gave him a wave of acknowledgement, but didn’t take his eyes
off the
Jarvis
, the long German airship.
Captain von Felsgoot had the practice field practically to himself, as the
ugly, cigar-shaped vehicle practiced its clumsy maneuvers. There were hay bales
set out on the field, with painted targets in the shapes of horses, men, and
buildings. With each pass, marksmen seated at six gun ports in two rows along
the bottom of the ship took aim at the targets with impressive results.
Using one of the long lines attached to the bay door, Simon swung
himself up and into the cabin. He looked exhausted, but wore the familiar
expression he carried whenever he was on a job--determined and preoccupied. He
was wearing the clothing he often wore when he went job scouting. Dark and
loose-fitting clothes with rubber-soled shoes. He did look as if he’d been out
all night.
“Welcome back.”
Simon rubbed his face. “We need to talk.”
“It’ll have to wait,” Arvel
grinned. “We don’t have much time. Here we go.”
Arvel pulled on the altitude lever arms and the
Il Colibri
rose up above the airfield.
The familiar thrill of flight filled him, as it always did, but on this fine
spring morning of cloudless skies and calm air, he reveled in his element.
I must’ve been a bird in another life,
he
mused.
The airshow would begin at midday, but with the German ship taking
up the lion’s share of the air space for their dangerous targeting maneuvers.
Arvel’s ship had been granted a small practice area over the
mudchute
; a field of sludge dredged up
from the bottom of the Millwall docks. Even from this height, there was no
escaping the ripe odor of the black muck spread across the lower marsh. Tiny
lean-to structures and small animal pens rimmed the area, but there were no
pigs or goats to be seen. Only a few cattle and sheep grazing further over, on
the Millwall side of the island.
Suspended in the air near the Millwall dock, Arvel spotted Nuncio in
the tethered basket of the black and gold
Il
Calabrone
with a family of three. The line of people queued up for a ride
in the tethered balloons stretched all the way to the north end of Millwall.
“Where are you, Simon?” Gregorio’s voice shouted from the winch
behind Arvel.
“Right here!”
Arvel held the ship in position while Simon descended through the
floor hatch to join Nuncio in the gondola. A half a mile away, the
Jarvis
was making another run at the
targets. From that distance, he knew they were safe from a stray bullet, but the
gunfire sounded uncomfortably close. Clumsy as the
Jarvis
was, it more than made up for its lack of maneuverability in
firepower and weaponry. They were lucky to have been granted practice time at
all. Shaking off his unease, he adjusted the stabilizer propellers until the
calibration bar held perfectly steady.
“On your command, Captain.”
“Holding steady at 50 meters, Gregorio. Ready when you are.”
With a soft jolt, a low vibration thrummed through the cabin. From
strategically-placed mirrors, Arvel could watch the gondola docking mechanism
disengage and the basket and begin to fall away from the ship, carrying both Simon
and Nuncio. They’d hammered out the worst of the damage to the gondola, and he
was certain no one on the ground would notice. The only real question was with
the elevator/retractor mechanism and whether it would work properly with the
weight of two men. Both men were experienced linesmen, and as usual, both had
refused to wear the safety harnesses.
A sudden movement from below jiggled the horizontal calibration
bar, but before Arvel could make an adjustment, the ship evened out again.
Gregorio gave a shout, but there was no need. He spoke into the speaking tube
in the center of the console.
“Are you all right?”
Simon’s tinny voice echoed in the cabin from the gondola below. “Two
of the links refused to expand properly. We got hung up, but just for a
moment.” He gave the location of the snag, which was at the end closest to the
ship. “Just a minor reshaping there, I think. Or maybe a burr not filed
completely clean. We’ve reached the end of the cable. Pull us back up.”
Gregorio reversed the engine on the winch, and this time, there
was a loud clanking sound that accompanied the retraction of the gondola.
Arvel winced. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Nothing to worry about, Captain.” Gregorio had to shout to be
heard over the noise. “It sounds bad, but I can fix before the show, no
problem.”
Twice, then three times, the ship was jerked off horizontal when
the gondola retraction was not as smooth as it should have been, but Gregorio
assured him that the mechanics were sound and only minor adjustments to a
couple of the linking segments would be required.
After all the damage caused from the collision, it felt good to be
back in business. For the first time in days, Arvel allowed himself think about
their upcoming performance.
As they headed back to the hangars, he noted with approval that
Louie Ma and Bruno had nearly finished filling the diving tank set up in the
center of the field. Good.
The road leading to the airfield was already filled with traffic.
Carriages, bicycles, and crowds made their way slowly down Ferry Road to the
airfield. Spectators began to fill the stands, set up around the periphery. On
the north side of the field, a special viewing platform with chairs had been
built, and the railings draped with red, blue, and white bunting.
That must be for the Queen
and her entourage.
It was really happening. Arvel grinned. He had never met a Queen
before; or even seen one, in person. Everyone said that the English queen had
been notoriously reclusive since the death of her husband, Prince Albert. To
have her in attendance today, or even tomorrow, if the weather held; it was
almost too much to think about.
He brought the ship lower in preparation for landing. Bruno and
Louie joined Simon and Nuncio at the lines and began walking the ship into the
hangar.
Arvel glanced around,
wondering where the extra security Mr. Figgs said had been brought in from the
East India Company, but he couldn’t spot any of them. There a lot more people
in the hangar now, crowding around the other ships, making for a slow walk of
the ship to the back of the hangar. Even Captain Couvier, of the
Faucon de Ciel
seemed a bit uneasy.
Finally they reached the dock and he was able to shut down the
power. Before he had a chance to help Rudy and Gregorio smooth out the kinks in
the retraction mechanism, Simon pulled him aside.
“Everything is a go for tonight. Louie will set up the fireworks
after the Germans finish their run today. The first rockets will go up at 9
o’clock, with the chiming of the Great Clock in Westminster.”
Arvel gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder. “You said it was
impossible, but I knew you’d find a way.”
Simon gave him a humorless grin. “Win or lose, by midnight, we’ll
have enough money to build a whole fleet of airships.”
Arvel took a closer look at his friend. His color wasn’t good.
Before a job, Simon was usually exultant; exuberant. Today he looked positively
grim.
“What’s the matter,
then? You don’t seem very happy about it.”
Simon’s jaw tightened. “Something happened last night--.”
“Yes, I noticed you never made it back. What—did her husband
walk in you?” It was meant to be a joke, but if anything, Simon turned even
paler.
“No. Nothing like that. He attacked her. There was something wrong
with him, Arvel. It was like he was possessed. It was some kind of magick, I
think. It’s been so long, I, I just don’t know. I managed to drive him off,
but…” A shudder passed through his friend.
He grabbed Simon by the arm. “What?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t make any sense. That inspector was there.
Greenslade. Her husband almost killed him.” He shook his head. “I managed to
drive him off, but he’ll be back, I think. I’m worried about her. I asked her
come with me. With us.”
“Listen to yourself, man. You hardly know this girl!”
Simon twisted from his grip. “I know it sounds crazy, but this
place isn’t safe for her anymore. She’s got an affinity for air
magick—and maybe water, too. That’s what my father had. Before you say
no, think about it—she has an affinity for weather. She could be a great
help to us.”
It wasn’t over then, with the girl. Arvel sighed and shook his
head. He was in deep with this one. “What did she say?”
Simon looked away. “She’s thinking about it.”
Mother of Mary, he’s really
gone over on her.
“Don’t be a fool. This is her home. Why would she leave? You’ve
got nothing--.”
“You’re wrong, Arvel. After tonight, we’ll have everything, and I
know I can make her happy.”
The look of desperation on his friend’s face said it all. Arvel
could not remember ever seeing Simon in such a state over a woman. “She’s going
to break your heart, my friend. Why don’t you find yourself a nice little
Italian girl?”
But even as he said it, he knew it would be no use. “Never mind. We
can speak of this later. Right now we have a show to put on.”